Baby Bird
by Eileen
Summary: Will Tim Drake let his young son wear the Robin suit?


**Baby Bird**

(Disclaimer: All characters are the property of DC Comics.)

(Author's Note: This is part of a larger story involving the re-formation of Young Justice in the Batman Beyond universe. It's essentially Animated Continuity with some elements from the comics.)

Toby Drake came home from school like he always did, running from the bus stop like he was flying. Today was the day, the day he'd been waiting for, the day he'd been born for. Today he would finally—

His dad was waiting for him in the living room.

Toby stopped short, his heart pounding. His dad never came home this early. Not unless something was wrong . . .

Oh, no.

"I want to talk to you, son," Tim Drake said, his voice grave.

"What did I—"

"Close the door first."

Toby went back and shut the front door, his mind racing. What could his dad need to talk to him about? His grades were fine—better than average, in fact—he hadn't gotten into any trouble . . .

Oh, NO . . . it couldn't be. He couldn't have found . . .

His dad ushered him into the study, a dark-paneled room Toby was usually forbidden to enter. When he saw the item sitting on the desk, he knew what this was all about.

Dad had found out.

"Your mother was putting your laundry away," Tim began, "and she found this."

Toby said nothing.

"Well? Do you care to explain where it came from?"

"Dad, I . . ." Toby started, and found that he couldn't finish the sentence.

"Never mind, I know where it came from. He had no right to do this to you."

Toby suddenly found his voice. "You don't know anything!"

His father looked angry. "What did you say?"

"Nobody forced me to do this! I had to talk him into it, and it took forever! I made that suit myself!"

"You made it?" Tim looked at it closely. It looked like his old Robin costume, all right, but the design had been updated slightly. It looked sleeker, darker. Magnetic shielding, high-tech weaponry. A mask that extended over the wearer's head for extra protection. And it looked like the collar had a built-in mike. Nice. Much better than his old—

What was he thinking? There was no way he could let Toby out on the streets! He was only thirteen! It was too dangerous . . .

You were only thirteen.

Yeah, and look what happened.

Toby was sitting there, expectantly. Tim didn't know what to say to him. His anger had melted away, leaving . . . regret? Nostalgia?

"Listen, Tobe, I'll have to talk to your mom about this . . ."

"I have a meeting tonight."

"You what?"

Toby knew he was in for it now.

"You and who else?"

"Um . . . we're kind of trying to re-form Young Justice."

"Who is? Who else is involved in this?"

Toby didn't want to tell. He knew the first thing Dad would do would be to get on the phone and call everyone's parents. (Most of whom he already knew.) He didn't want to get everyone in trouble.

"Toby? I'm waiting."

Reluctantly, the boy muttered, "Shana."

"That figures. She's just like her dad." Shana Sandsmark was the daughter of the former Superboy and Wonder Girl, and had taken on the mantle of the second Supergirl. "Who else?"

"Bobby Allen."

"Bobby? That's Iris' son, right? Wally's grandson?"

"Yeah."

"Funny she married a man whose last name was Allen," Tim muttered to himself. "Now we know where all those future Flashes came from." (Author's note: see "Chain Lightning".)

"There's this girl who calls herself the Sorceress. Nobody knows who she is."

"We can find out," said Tim. "That it? That's quite a group."

"There's a couple more. Michael Irons. He's built this amazing new Steel suit, you gotta see it. And Janet Fries."

That last one caught Tim by surprise. "Janet Fries?"

"Yeah, she's like his great-grandniece or something. She's a metahuman—she actually generates cold and ice. And she's kinda pretty, too." Toby blushed when he said that.

Tim chuckled at that. "I see. And how long have you all been planning this?"

"A little over two months." Toby's voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Two months?" Tim repeated incredulously. "You've kept this a secret from us for two months?"

"I didn't tell you because I knew you'd say no."

"Darn right I'd say no! Toby, it's too dangerous out there! If something happens to you . . ."

"Nothing will happen," Toby said, with the confidence of a teenager who thinks he'll live forever. "We'll all be watching each other's backs."

"Yeah, I had plenty of people watching my back, and I still . . ." Tim couldn't go on. He had never told his son exactly how it had all ended for him, so many years ago. It wasn't a tale for children. The thought of anything like that happening to his only son filled Tim with horror. It was worse than losing him altogether.

"Dad?" Toby looked up at him, concerned. "Are you okay?"

"I don't want you to do this," Tim said. "It's not a game. Too many things could go wrong."

"I know that," the boy said. "I'll be careful."

"You think you will," Tim said, and his mind was not there, but was thirty-seven years in the past. "You train hard, learn every possible way to take down a person, have all the Bat-gadgets you could ever dream of, and the moment you let your guard down, just for one second, that's it. It's all over."

"Dad," Toby said, and for a moment he sounded much older than thirteen, "I hear what you're saying. You don't want me to get hurt the way you did."

"I'd die if anything happened to you, Tobes."

"You must have had some good times, too. It couldn't have been all bad. What about the fun part? Why don't you ever talk about that?"

Tim thought about that for a moment. It had been fun, at the beginning. Soaring through the sky like he had wings. Taking down the bad guys—one, two, three! He and Dick, perched on a rooftop, on a stakeout . . .

"Have you thought," Dick asked him, "about what you're going to do when you grow up?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, come on. I mean, you can't wear the cape and tights forever."

"Why not?"

"Because you outgrow it. It's fun for a kid, but you grow up and you realize there are other things in life that you could be spending your time on. Like girls."

"Is that what happened to you? You outgrew it?"

"Yeah, sort of." Dick shifted his position, never taking his eyes off the building across the way.

"So why'd you come back?"

"Because . . ." Dick paused for a long moment. "I guess it became such a part of me that I couldn't just walk away. It's who I am now."

"Will you ever give it up forever?"

Dick was silent again. Then he said, "I suppose I'll have to. We all have to, some day. One way or another."

_One way or another_ . . . easy for him to talk. He'd had a choice. He hadn't been forced out of it all of a sudden like Tim had.

"Dad?" Toby said.

"Yeah, son. I'm just thinking."

"If you hadn't had to quit, would you have gone on?"

Would he? If what happened hadn't happened, how long would he have been Batman's partner? Eighteen? Twenty-one? How long would the dream have lasted?

He **had **had a good time, hadn't he? So what if it was only a couple of years? Dick was right: he couldn't have gone on forever. And he had enjoyed it while it had lasted. In spite of the way his career had ended, it had all been worth it.

Did he have the right to deny that dream to his son?

"Okay," he said at last. "You can go to your meeting. But we're going to have a long talk about it when you get home." Toby couldn't believe his ears. "Did you say . . . I could go?"

"Yeah, sure," Tim said, the hint of a smile on his face. "Say hi to everyone for me."

Toby let out with a whoop that shook the house. He took the suit and went to his room to change.

Tim sat there a while longer. Then, without turning around, he said, "So how long have you been standing there?"

"Pretty much the whole time," his wife said. "You knew I was there?"

"Hey, I was trained by the best."

She sat down in the chair that Toby had recently vacated. "I didn't think you were going to let him go. You were pretty upset about it this afternoon."

"I wasn't, but he . . . reminded me of some things. The positive aspects of being Robin, that I'd forgotten."

"Such as?"

"Well . . ." He slipped an arm around her shoulders. "If it hadn't been for Robin, I never would have met you."

"That's true."

They were silent for a long time.

"I wasn't too hard on him, was I?" Tim asked.

"No, I didn't think so. I remember when my mom found **my** suit. She went ballistic, forbid me to ever wear it again."

"Lucky for me you didn't listen to her."

They heard an upstairs window open and close.

"He could have used the front door."

"Part of the tradition," Tim shrugged. "I never went out the front door."

"You think he'll be all right?"

Tim sighed. "He'll be fine. We had to let him go sometime. He has to learn to make his own mistakes. Part of growing up."

"Like a little baby bird," she said, "flying the nest."

They laughed a little at that.

"Come on, Steph," Tim said. "Let's go make some coffee."

High above the city, in the darkening sky, a small form flew. He could have had jet propulsion units in his boots, like the new Batman, but Toby liked the old-fashioned way better. There was just something about swinging from rooftop to rooftop that felt right.

He was flying.

He was free.

He was Robin.


End file.
